


Hands on my Hips, Name on my Lips

by ashilrak



Series: All the Best Things in Life Come for Free (But Don't You Think That Applies to Me) [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, For a part, For another, M/M, Peter is of legal age, Sexual Fantasy, Strength Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashilrak/pseuds/ashilrak
Summary: Screw. Screwdriver. Screw Peter Parker.Peter Parker screw Tony Stark. There. That sounded better.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: All the Best Things in Life Come for Free (But Don't You Think That Applies to Me) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683325
Comments: 5
Kudos: 199





	Hands on my Hips, Name on my Lips

**Author's Note:**

> Sugar Makes Life Sweeter occurs somewhere smack-dab in the middle of this

It was an accident. Tony never expected it to become a thing. He knew that the spider bite had given Peter super strength, he and Bruce had spent hours running tests to see the extent of Peter’s abilities. Seeing the kid stop a bus had been part of what brought them together anyway.

It wasn’t new.

But oh god did seeing Peter completely demolish the screwdriver he was holding do something for him.

Peter was working on something, completely focused on whatever he was doing. Tony had walked over and set a tablet down on Peter’s workstation.

The movement must have been too sudden, too unexpected. Peter looked up with a small shout, the piece of metal he was working on clattering to the table.

“Oh, hi Mr. Stark,” he said. “I didn’t see you there.”

Tony reached over a hand and squeezed Peter’s shoulder. “No problem, kid. It happens to the best of us.”

And that’s when he saw it. The remains of what had once been a perfectly usable screwdriver, squished together into an unrecognizable blob of metal and plastic.

He meant to make a snarky comment about it, get a chuckle out of Peter. Instead, his mind flashed back to the time he’d had three of the football players in his bed in college and how it had felt to be so overpowered.

He’d never felt that way since. Had always insisted on dominating any situation he was in. 

But this was Peter. 

Every desire he had pushed down over the years to wake up with possessive bruises the next day, to be thrown onto a mattress, to be pressed against a wall and taken came rushing back. Hell, he was half hard.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter inquired. Wide doe eyes looking up at him, concern plain on his face. “Are you alright?”

Tony shook his head and took a step back. He needed to forget this and move on. He was better than this. He couldn’t do this.

“Yeah kid,” he said. Peter was young enough to be his son. He couldn’t do this to himself. “All good.”

He managed to hold out until Peter left. The moment FRIDAY gave the all-clear that Peter was out of the building his hand was wrapped around his cock.

\---

Tony had never understood the damsel-in-distress thing -- didn’t get the fantasy. 

There was no circumstance he could imagine the feeling of being helpless as sexy. 

Maybe he just had too much baggage.

The nanotech suits didn’t weigh nearly as much as some of his older ones did. The housing comfortably sat on his chest in place of the arc reactor. It wasn’t heavy. But the part of him that remembered the 600 pound Mark II hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around that fact.

And when Peter Parker lifted him up bridal style for a stupid ass photo in the suit, his mind flashed back to the screwdriver.

Peter wasn’t even putting in any effort. Wasn’t breaking a single sweat. So sign of strain on the too-pretty-for-his-own-good face. 

Tony didn’t think he’d ever been so turned on by something so innocuous before. If he didn’t count the screwdriver, that is.

Screw. Screwdriver. Screw Peter Parker. 

Peter Parker screw Tony Stark. There. That sounded better.

Peter set him down. “Alright there, Mr. Stark?” he asked with a grin and a sparkle in his eye.

Tony lowered the face plate. “Kid,” he said, raising a hand to his chest. “You gotta give an old man a warning.”

Peter laughed. “You’re not that old Mr. Stark.”

Tony sighed. “You gotta cut it with the Mr. Stark, kid.”

Maybe he needed to cut it with the kid.

A part of him, deep in the back corners of his mind, that he hadn’t listened to in years, knew he never would.

\---

It wasn’t like he had never thought about it. He had thought about it. Had thought about it very deliberately. Had spent hours thinking about it. Had laid back in bed, wishing Peter was there with him, trailing his hand from his chest, down his stomach, to toy with the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

It had always been a fantasy. Something that wasn’t going to happen, something that wasn’t allowed to happen.

God did Tony want it to happen.

At first it had been the sound of Peter breathing out “Mr. Stark” when Tony covered him with a blanket after he fell asleep in the lab that had him hardening in his pants.

It had been so easy to keep that sound playing on repeat in his head. Even easier to have FRIDAY play it for him. 

The drop of guilt accompanying of action made it better. Made each second sweeter, each pull on his cock a bit sharper. 

He could see it. Could see Peter on his knees in front of him, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, lips swollen. Begging for a taste of him.

“Please, Mr. Stark. I’ll do anything.”

On the darker nights, after he had a few fingers of scotch, the “Mr. Stark” would be replaced. It wouldn’t be Peter begging as much as him taking.

“Oh, thank you Daddy. Please, harder daddy. I’ll be so good for you, Daddy.”

But after the screwdriver. After Peter literally sweeping him off his feet, things started to change.

Tony would be sitting at his workstation in the lab, tinkering away. Doing everything he could to make everything better for Peter. Peter deserved the best of the best. And even Tony knew Peter wouldn’t be the kind to accept anything Tony just gave him.

There needed to be a reason, a purpose.

The suit was what he had to give, and nothing would stop him from giving it.

He’d be tinkering away, and Peter would come up behind him. Tony wouldn’t notice, would be too involved in what he was doing. Hands would settle on his shoulder, pulling him out of his work. The grip would be strong, but not forceful. Enough that Tony would know it wouldn’t be easy to get away, enough to get his heart rate going. But it’d be Peter. He’d be comfortable. He’d feel a tinge of anticipation and hope rice in his chest. Curiosity winning out.

Peter would turn his chair around so they were facing each other, Peter looking down at him, a small smirk playing at the corner of his delectable mouth. 

Tony wouldn’t have time to ask a single question before he’d find himself picked up. He’d wrap his legs around Peter’s waist, would be unable to stop himself from pressing his hips against Peter’s abs.

His too-good-to-be-true abs. 

Peter would press him against the wall. Would hold Tony’s weight with a single hand under his ass, the other tangling in his hair. The kisses would be biting, teeth pulling at his lip. He’d try to take control, he had a reputation to maintain.

But Peter wouldn’t care. Peter would laugh into his mouth and push him further into the wall. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter would say, eyes dark and lips swollen. “I’m going to fuck you.” It’d be punctuated by a kiss to the side of his neck. Tony would throw his head back, let out a sort of animalistic sound that was always so cringey in porn and so, so sexy in his head. Peter would bite down. “And then I’m going to fuck you again until my name is the only thing you remember.”

His fantasies were never too concerned about reality.

Peter would be dripping in diamonds Tony had bought him. The bed would be two steps from the lab. Peter would throw him down, and fuck him just right. 

Peter would hold and move him like he weighed nothing. Like he was the twink between the two of them. Like Tony weighed nothing. Like Peter wanted nothing more than to take care of him and treat him right.

\---

After they got together, when Peter was his. When Tony got to look at Peter without a single ounce of guilt urging him not to. When all he had to do when Peter caught him staring with open his arms and Peter would come bounding over.

It was all his dreams come true.

Peter was already so pretty, and Tony’s dreams didn’t come close to the actual sight of Peter kneeling in front of him begging for a taste of his cock.

It was practiced. Tony tried to ignore that. Didn’t like to spend too much time imagining the murder of who taught Peter to beg so pretty.

His therapist would be proud of him.

Peter fit so well against him. Peter was only an inch shorter, but he somehow fit perfectly against him. 

The first day Peter saw him without his shoes on had Peter not being able to look him in the eyes without laughing for three hours.

God, Tony loved him so much.

Peter looked up to him. Always looked to him, in and out of the field. It made Tony feel good, like he had something worth fighting for.

Tony took the lead. They both expected it, neither of them questioned it.

He didn’t think there was any place better in the world than between Peter’s legs. Couldn’t imagine any sound sweeter than Peter’s quiet moans in his ear. 

Tony’s hands crept up Peter’s thighs to his hips to pull him close. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter let out in a breath, eyes fluttering shut. “Please.”

It was perfect. Peter was perfect.

“What do you want, baby?” Tony asked. Tilting his head up to capture Peter’s lips in a kiss. 

Peter rolled his hips, his cock pressing against the line of the zipper.

Tony knew that wasn’t comfortable. He also knew that Peter liked it.

“You,” Peter said. “Please.”

Tony unbuttoned Peter’s shirt. “Anything you want, baby.”

\---

Tony was on his back, Peter’s weight settled over him. They were both fully dressed, suits from whatever gala it was they had that night. The endless small talk and false compliments far behind them. 

Peter had been sipping at champagne all night, needing something to occupy his hands and mouth when he wasn’t talking with someone. Tony had stood by and watched as his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled. 

They hadn’t found anything to get Peter drunk yet, but it did not take a lot to get Peter tipsy. Especially at the rate that Peter had been downing flutes.

Peter got handsy when he got tipsy. Any hesitation he still had vanished. He’d press close and link their hands together. Would rest his head on Tony’s shoulder. 

Peter had once told him that the sound of his heartbeat and the smell of his cologne always calmed him down. Peter always looked so peaceful during those moments.

The first time Tony saw Peter look so relaxed -- in a place he was unfamiliar with, surrounded by people he didn’t know -- trusting Tony to take care of him, Tony had almost started crying. Had felt the lump of emotion rise in his throat. 

He had pushed it down, because he’s Tony Stark and that’s what he does. Later that night he worshipped Peter. Had pressed kisses to every single inch of Peter’s skin. 

Peter leaned up a bit, one hand next to Tony’s head, the other tangled with Tony’s tie. 

“Daddy,” Peter said, meeting his gaze.

“Yes baby?” Tony reached a hand up to cover Peter’s

Peter licked his lips. It was doing things for Tony.

“Baby?” Tony tried again. “What’s wrong.”

Peter shook his head. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” 

“I said it was nothing.”

Tony raised a brow.

Peter yanked on Tony’s tie and bit on his lower lip. “I want you out of this”

Tony tangled a hand in Peter’s hand to pull him down for a kiss. He was only a man, he could only resist temptation so much. “Whatever you want, baby.”

Peter gave just as good as he got. Rolling his hips and moaning into Tony’s mouth. Tony bit down on his lip and pulled Peter closer. 

He really didn’t think he’d ever get enough of this. Peter’s weight and warmth on top of him had him aching. 

Tony moved a hand to Peter’s hip to push him off.

Peter didn’t budge.

He pulled away from the kiss, chest heaving. “Baby,” he said. “I thought you said you wanted me wearing less clothing.”

Peter pressed forward for another kiss. “I did,” he said, pulling away. He traced a finger down Tony’s chest to stop at the first button of the vest of his three-piece. “I didn’t say you’d be the one taking it off though.”

Tony’s mouth went dry.

Peter’s smirk became dirty. “I hope you don’t like this suit too much.”

Even if he did, Tony didn’t get to put a word in before Peter ripped it open like it was held together by nothing more than a wish.

Tony didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life as Peter slid down his body, tearing Italian fabric like it was tissue paper to reveal skin.

“Sorry Daddy,” Peter said, not looking sorry at all, from where he was laying between Tony’s now spread legs, breath ghosting over his painfully hard cock. “I got impatient.”

“Hnng.” Tony couldn’t form an intelligible sound.

The slight hint of disappointment when Peter rode him that night did not make it any less enjoyable.

\---

The arms wrapping around his waist startled him.

The familiar lips pressed to the back of his neck immediately calmed him down. Peter. 

The hard line of a cock pressing against his ass had his own perking up in interest.

He heard Peter ask, “FRIDAY, is anything on this table super important?”

“No Mr. Parker,” FRIDAY’s familiar lilt answered.

Before Tony could wonder why that matter, Peter swept his arm across it, throwing everything to the floor and pressed him flat against it.

Oh God. Tony felt his mind blank. This was…

“Mr. Stark,” Peter practically growled, pressing his cock against Tony’s ass in an unmistakable rhythm. 

“Peter--”

“Sir,” Peter interrupted. “I’m going to fuck you,” Peter punctuated with a hard squeeze to his hip. “Right here.” 

Tony pushed his hips back. “Oh?” he asked, peeking over his shoulder with a raised brow. “Are you now?” 

If Peter didn’t Tony might kill him. 

A hand between his shoulder blades pressed his chest flat to the table. Tony couldn’t have gotten out from under the grip if he tried. This might actually kill him.

What a fucking way to go.

“Bruce thought he might have found a potential painkiller,” Peter said. “He decided to test a potential compound.” 

Tony gasped as cold air hit skin when Peter forced his jeans down.

“I’m not sure what it did, exactly,” Peter continued. “But I thought I’d see if you wanted to help me with my little problem before taking care of it on my own.”

Tony let out a groan and pushed his hips back as much as he could. The denim of Peter’s jeans was rough on his skin, but god did it feel good. 

“Please,” he gasped out. “Fuck me. Hard.”

Peter froze behind him. 

Did he go too far? Fuck. 

“Mr. Stark,” Peter said, an odd tone to his voice.

“Yeah?” Oh god, if Peter didn’t stick something in him soon he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. 

Peter pressed down harder against his back. 

“Kid,” Tony gasped out. “Get on with it.”

Peter added a little more pressure.

You couldn’t get him to admit to it if you offered him the world, but Tony honest-to-God whined. 

This shouldn’t be doing it for him. This should have him running for the hills. This should have him panicking, calling for Rhodey or asking Peter to help him through an attack. He should be flashing back or something. But this was Peter. This was literally what his fantasies were made of. Of course he’d have fucked up trigger loopholes.

“You like this, don’t you?”

Tony nodded.

Peter’s hand left his hip. A moment later he heard the familiar sound of Peter opening the container of lube. 

Tony could have cried when he felt a cold finger circle his entrance.

“You know Daddy,” Peter said. “If you wanted this so bad, you could have let me know.”

Tony groaned and pushed his hips back. “Criticize me later, fuck me first.”

Peter laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> So I guess this is becoming a series.
> 
> No, I have no idea why the explicit smut isn't happening. They'll get there eventually, I'm sure. I'm having fun writing it as it is, so that's what I'm sticking with.
> 
> Please feel free to reach out to me at my [tumblr](http://ashilrak.tumblr.com/)


End file.
